Within the cloak of your Enemy
by VenusJay
Summary: A young man is brought from Dorne to King's Landing, narrowly avoiding a fate in the brothel. He is given as a gift to King Robert and journeys with their party to Winterfell. It isn't long before suspicions arise about his history.
1. Chapter 1

The harsh greens and brown were a stark contrast to the sunlit beauty of Dorne. Such contrast was clear in the eyes of those departing the ship, tied by thick rope and bearing the weight of such restriction. Littlefinger knew them to make the best slaves. It was those who held a little defiance that interested him most. His brothels were known to be filled with beautiful men and women but his prized possessions were those who held wit and just enough bite. It would be a good day of trading.

They were all bid to stand in a line, their shuffling and fumbling as they tried to adjust to solid land made them all the more endearing to him. The coins were heavy in his hand. He never traded in cash but he found bribery in the hands of the traders made the process all the more favourable. Already there was a steady stream of buyers. The usual regime of checking teeth took place in turn for each of the men and women awaiting their fate. Thankfully no one decided to bite and within the hour bids had been placed and Littlefinger was arranging their transportation. He was pleasantly surprised by the standard this morning and congratulated himself on his purchases.

That was until a commotion took place on the boards of the ship. A young man resisted the hands trying to hold him. He twisted this way and that and Littlefinger could feel his mouth fall open. The money he could make with that one.

"Now, now, one ought not to be greedy."

Whipping his head around he was confused for a moment.

"I must say I am unsurprised to find you here, Littlefinger. Surely your brothels are overflowing by now?"

He bristled as Littlefinger followed a line down past his navel with his eyes.

"Indeed. Though I am surprised to find you here."

"Well a little bird told me there may be something of interest on this particular ship."

He smiled.

"I believe I have found it," he replied before motioning the tradesman over. He came eagerly, knowing that Littlefinger tipped well.

"How much for the boy," he gestured to the youth that had now given up, limp and weary and pulled along by the guards for his inspection. The price quoted was high but the return would be even higher. He paid the handsome sum and admired his handsome prize.

"A very worthy purchase," Varys commented smoothly. "What a shame to put such grace to waste in a brothel."

"He will earn a high price. I do not call that a waste."

Varys nodded.

"I imagine, however, that such a pretty young thing would make a generous gift. I find gifts a wonderful way to earn favour where money may otherwise appear...cheap."

Littlefinger paused in his inspection of the boy's teeth, taken aback by the lilac eyes.

"Why would I need to curry favour?"

Varys merely shrugged and turned away.

"At some stage in our lives we are all in need of a little help. Perhaps it is best to have a few indebted to us, especially those that repay them."

With that he disappeared into the busy crowd, no doubt to round up his little spies and find whatever it was he had thought valuable. Littlefinger gathered up his purchases and prepared to head back, the boy remaining silent and sullen at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come here," he said softly, the eyes of the crown on him as he presented his gift. The boy simply stood where he was, vacantly staring at the floor a few feet away. He felt a flush come to his cheeks and gave a grim smile to the King who seemed to be laughing to himself.

"Come here, boy," he said once more, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his back to urge him forward.

"Kneel."

He pressed down on his shoulder to encourage him to kneel but he simply looked at him with confusion. Perhaps arrogance, Littlefinger thought.

"What will I do with a deaf squire," Robert asked with jovial scorn.

Glancing at him, Littlefinger began to wonder if perhaps he had made a mistake. Perhaps he was deaf, he hadn't spoken from when he brought him from the ship.

"Speak," he said angrily, shaking him a little.

"It is with pleasure, I serve you, your majesty."

Littlefinger nearly jumped back in shock and flinched when Robert let out a booming laugh. He resented the cold stare of Ned Stark as he appraised this presentation.

"Send him to the other servants. Your gift is most welcome."

He was dismissed then along with his charge.

"Should you ever think of embarrassing me again, you should consider what happens to those that bite the hand that feeds them," he hissed as he led the young man along the corridor.

"I know what happens," he replied bitterly, his dirty hair falling over his face. "They grow a healthy appetite." He was beginning to regret losing such a challenge for his brothel. They would have lined up to try and tame him.


	3. Chapter 3

The journey to Winterfell was cold and bitter as he walked behind the carriage. Amongst the other servants, there was little concern for their well being, not that there had been in Dorne but at least it had been warm there. He stared up at the imposing walls of the castle as they entered the gates, the Stark family waiting to greet their King. The sight of them all kneeling was funny to him, he could almost pretend from this angle that they knelt before him. He watched from the entrance as they spoke to the King, the Queen steeping down from the carriage. When he had first been brought to King's landing he thought her to be very severe but in time he found she took an unusual interest in the lives of their servants. She sometimes spoke to him and she seemed just as lost as he felt. She greeted the family lined up before her, her own children remaining at the carriage.

A soft whining at his feet alerted him to the presence of a wolf pup and he stealthily unpacked a little dried meat from one of the packs near him to feed it. It tickled when it licked his hands, sniffing around his boots for more. All around him became a flurry of activity then as bags were unpacked. He carried and fetched back and forth, the little pup scampering around his legs as he did so.

"Ghost, here."

The little dog ran towards the young man happily. The man looked at him for a long moment.

"You are here with the King."

"Yes, my lord," he replied as he bowed.

"There's no need for that," he said quickly, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

"What's your name?"

"Micas."

"Ghost seems to like you."

"Ghost?"

The young man nodded, stroking the pup. "That is his name."

"I have never seen a pup so large," Micas said with admiration as he readjusted the chest in his arms. The young man reached forward to take it from him. He handed it over with surprise and lifted another from beside the carriage. They walked together in an amicable silence, Ghost padding after them as they walked through the castle.

"You are a Stark," he asked before he could help himself. The man next to him tensed a little but carried on walking.

"No, my name is Jon Snow. I am Ned Stark's bastard."

Micas looked at him then, noting that he could not be much younger than himself.

"My mother was a whore. The Stark family took me in. You must be one of the only people not to know that."

Jon allowed him to enter the chamber first and they both set the heavy trunks on the floor for the maids to unpack. Ghost settled himself between them and stretched out on the wooden floor.

"Your accent is unusual. Where are you from?"

"Dorne. I came to King's Landing on a trade ship. I was a gift to his majesty."

"A gift," Jon scrunched up his face in disgust. "People shouldn't be bartered like goods."

"Jon!"

Micas and Jon turned to find a little angry face in the doorway.

"You are supposed to help me with my work," she scolded him, her words far too angry for one of her size.

"This is Arya," he rolled his eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Who's this?"

Jon strolled over and ruffled her hair.

"Micas. He is here with the King."

"Is he any good at fighting?"

"Only when fighting dirty," he replied, he disliked being talked about in the third person. Jon laughed and explained that they would both have to go and eat with their guests. "Perhaps later you can teach Arya something about how they fight in Dorne."

He nodded and made his way downstairs with them to retrieve more boxes.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of the sword clashing against armour rang throughout the courtyard. Micas stood in the shadows and watched as Jon mercilessly attacked the training dummy. After a long time, he seemed to tire and rested against a wooden pillar.

"Who is winning," he asked as he approached. He was unsure why Jon seemed to accept his presence without question, bastard or not. Perhaps he ought to have been wary of him with a sword in his hand and anger in his heart.

"She wouldn't even let me attend the feast. Even the dogs get to lick the scraps from the table," he growled. Micas joined him, leaning against the opposite support and raising an eyebrow.

"You have more Stark blood than the Lady Katarine."

"Catelyn," Jon corrected him with a smirk.

"My apologies, I find it hard to pronounce your word for bitch in my accent."

Jon's eyes widened and together they had to cover their mouths to mask the sound of their laughter.

"So you are the King's jester?"

"Her majesty's brother takes such a role, already."

Jon sticks the tip of the blade into the muddy earth.

"I have heard tell of the imp. They say he is clever and Jamie is strong. Have you met him?"

Micas shook his head.

"He intends to come to Winterfell. That is all I know now."

"My brother Robb said that the Queen was supposed to be beautiful. I don't find her beautiful at all."

Micas shrugged.

"From what I learn of your people, you think beauty in a woman means silence."

"I don't want to take any woman. My mother didn't want me, the Lady Catelyn hates my existence; no doubt if I took a wife she would find a way to hate me too. Perhaps I ought to simply take the black."

They looked up at the darkening sky in silence for a while. Ghost sniffed around the courtyard, occasionally looking back at them in his trekk.

"Do you know your mother?"

"I only know those who owned me. Sometimes I dream of her. She seems so young in my memory. Perhaps it is best for a man not to know his mother. He has no one to disappoint then."

"You think you would be a disappointment?"

"I know I was very sickly as a babe. This was told to me. I can't imagine any mother wishes for such a child."

Jon seemed lost in thought then before they both heard a call from above them.

"Brandon, come down from there," Jon said angrily as the young boy climbed down from the ledge.

"I brought you something to eat," he said, handing the young man a sack with apples and beef that dripped through the cloth. Despite the condition of the food, he smiled and thanked him.

"Come on, we'd best get inside before we freeze," he said and Micas followed them indoors.


	5. Chapter 5

Bran's arms shook with the force of drawing the bow. His aim only improved by a small margin and he would much rather have been out climbing than trying to hit a silly little target. He was wary of the young man who Jon seemed to have befriended. It made little sense to him that he would want to talk to a servant. He held out his hand for another arrow and Micas stepped forward to hand him one. Bran could see his father talking to the King out of the corner of his eye and he tried hard to aim for the centre of the target. Theon helped him to steady the bow and as he loosed it it landed dead centre. His brother punched his shoulder with a laugh and headed off to speak with their father. Jon and Theon watched as Rob bowed to the King, joining in their conversation with ease.

"How are you with a bow," Jon asked suddenly and Bran looked at Micas. The young man shook his head.

"I have never held one."

Theon chuckled and Jon shot him a look of annoyance.

"Here," he said as he handed his own bow over. Micas looked at it with a smile. It was pure black, no doubt painted that way in defiance.

"Stand there," Jon pointed and showed him the correct posture.

"Draw back as you raise the bow, keep your arm slightly bent. Exhale and then release."

He felt the eyes of those in the courtyard on him as he pulled back the string, the force required surprising him. His aim was unsteady as he loosed the arrow but it did find its mark in the edge of the target.

"Good," Jon said simply as he handed him another arrow. Ned gave Jon a nod of approval, glad to see kindness in him. Bran soon became bored and wandered off to go climbing as Jon handed him arrow after arrow, many of them missing the target completely.

"You'll get the hang of it in no time," Jon assured him.


	6. Chapter 6

He had seen little of Jon in the last few days. He could only watch on as the younger Stark lay in bed, lost to all the world. He fetched blankets and brought food to the Lady Catelyn by his bedside. She was cold to his presence and he knew she disliked the way Jon spoke to him and treated him as being worth something. It saddened him that he would soon return to King's Landing with the royal party and would undoubtedly never see him again. He almost felt like a friend in a place where he was invisible. He often found Ghost following him around the castle as he went about his work, the wolf sometimes dipping his nose into the bucket of water he used for washing. He was sorely tempted to dunk his own head in the water to wash away all the dirt and grime that had built up in the last few months but he knew that it would be a waste.

He had tried to listen in as he poured wine for the Lannisters as Lord Tyrion spoke about the boy. He seemed convinced that he would live and Micas felt relief at that. He was growing fond on the Stark family, though he held little affection in his heart for the spoiled Prince Joffrey. He admired the way Tyrion spoke. Indeed he seemed very funny and Micas hovered in the doorway after Cersei left.

"Death is so very final," he heard him say. "And life is full of possibilities." He crept away then to return to the kitchens.


	7. Chapter 7

Micas couldn't help but watch the back of Jon's head as he spoke to his father. He felt hurt at the thought that Jon would not even bid him farewell but he knew that Jon held no responsibility to him. He had been sorry to leave Winterfell, especially given that the young boy had not recovered. He hoped he would be well. The party had already begun to descend the hill as Ned Stark joined them once more.

"Micas!"

Jon steadied his horse as he walked alongside them.

"Take care," he said with a nod.

"You too, my Lord Snow."

He seemed bemused by that.

"What are the Snow's Lords of? Bastard islands?"

Micas smiled.

"They are Lords of the Ice."

Jon reached out a hand and Micas reached up so that they could grasp each other's forearm.

"If you are ever at the Wall," he said kindly.

"If you are ever tired of Ice," Micas replied before Jon rode off after his uncle and Lord Tyrion. Micas had to run to catch up with the Royal party, hoping no one would question his absence.


	8. Chapter 8

"You seem troubled, dear boy," Varys offered him a cup of wine and he gratefully accepted.

"They killed the wolf," Micas answered with sadness. He thought of Jon's Ghost that followed him as a shadow and he wondered how a dog could be held accountable for the crimes of people. A dark cloud had descended over everything in King's landing, the Stark sisters hating each other. He often thought about what it would be like to have a sister and he wondered if he could ever hate them.

"A necessary evil," Varys assured him. He liked Varys. He had always been kind to him and occasionally allowed him to enjoy some wine with him or some lemon cakes. He missed the food and sun of Dorne, the language and it's streets. At least with Varys he felt that he could speak. Most of his days were spent in silence here, wondering and watching.

"I wish I served the Stark family," he commented idly as he swirled the contents of his cup, the strong wine a potent and heady mix.

"You should be careful where you say such a thing," Varys chided him.

"The Lannisters are dull," he replied sullenly.

"That is a first," Varys replied, raising his eyebrows. "Then again, they are not here to entertain you."

"Is it money that makes you dull," Micas asked him. "Many of the wealthy people have little to say."

"Perhaps they have much to say but why on earth would they say it to you?"

Micas set the cup down feeling humiliated.

"You are right. I am sorry."

"If you wish to keep your tongue, I advise you to be careful with it. You should go now. My little birds tell me you will need to prepare the King's armour. Micas nodded and took another lemon cake with him for later.


End file.
